Kathy Richardson takes time to reflect on life in the Midwest

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Archive | November 2012

Driven by the wind, several brown, crisp leaves cartwheeled across the road in front of my car. They did a dance of ecstasy on the side of the road, and then dropped lifelessly into a clump of frost-deadened grass. A few hard pellets of sleet tappity-tapped on my windshield, and then seemingly disappeared into thin air. Had I imagined them? I pulled into the hospital parking lot and got out of my car. Continue reading →

Bare-branched trees lined the river like tall gray sentinels. Huddled among them were pine trees wearing dark green winter coats. As if to mock the somber landscape, a bright sun smiled down on it with a friendly, golden hue that made frost-bleached grasses seem to glow. The view from my kitchen window made me want to forget about housework. Promising myself that I’d go for a walk after doing the dishes, I quickly began loading my dishwasher. Continue reading →

At first my playmate and I were content to trample the weeds to form the halls and rooms of our imaginary house. Pointing to a tall skinny sapling growing closest to the gray weathered boards of the machine shed, I announced with imperial grandeur, “Between that tree and the shed is the little girl’s bedroom.” Continue reading →

I turned over and stretched, enjoying my soft, warm nest. Outside my comforter, the room was cold. Gray tendrils of sleep-induced mental fog obliterated all the concerns I had gone to bed with several hours earlier. Nothing in the world needed my attention at that moment and I felt supreme peace. Then I heard the eerie sound. Turning to give Arnie a shake I hissed, “Wake up and listen. I’m hearing it again!” Continue reading →